


Dead before Éntree

by lia_bezdomny



Series: Hannigram - Or the series, where I put the Murder Husbands into other TV shows and movies. [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), True Blood
Genre: Crack?, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, Shenanigans, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 20:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11882199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lia_bezdomny/pseuds/lia_bezdomny
Summary: “Well, if you need something to pass the time, the chicken wings are good in this place.”“I don't think any food in this place would agree with my stomach but thank you for your suggestion.” “Hm, okay. So the wine would be off limits too, right?”Yes, I want him to say I never drink... Wine. When will I ever meet a vampire again?---Hannigram meets True Blood. Kinda.





	Dead before Éntree

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting a new series where I put Hannigram in to other TV shows and movies. Mostly because Vodka told me it was a good idea.

“That was a close one.”

Jack's lips are nothing more than a thin line when he looks me over. The skin on my neck is still a little raw from the cut. I had worse razor burns when I first started shaving as I told him and he agrees with me. But this time, we got a witness – Alana – who just so happens to think I'm a delicate flower that needs protection. I don't need to read Jack's mind, to know what he's thinking.

“PTSD sessions with Alana?”

Alana and I have a history. She likes me, we kissed but she's looking for someone to fix and I'm not up for that. Mostly, because what I do saves lives.

Okay, here's the deal:

I read minds. Not palms, not tea leaves and I certainly cannot determinate the sex of your unborn child by dropping a coffee bean between your boobs. And yes, that is a thing.

Of course I couldn't just come out and say what I can do. So I worked my butt of to get through college and become a profiler. I learned the lingo, the procedures, wrote countless papers on Gein, Holmes and Bundy. And then I met Jack and he wasn't fooled by any of it. Takes a sup to know a sup. He's a werewolf, so it is harder for me to read his mind. I have no idea why but that is the least of our concerns. He requested me for his team a year ago and I get along with them, most of the time.

“No, we gonna outsource this.” “Chilton?” The distain in Jack's face answers my question. Doesn't take a psychic – hardy ha – to know that Frederick is full of crap.

 

“New guy. Usually only takes private patients but Alana knows him, so he'll make an exception. You know the drill.” “Defensive, defensive with weeping, defensive again, daddy issues, defensive, weeping, resolution. Not my first time at the rodeo.” He nods and gives me the address with an appointment for the next day. I think defensive would go nicely with a little hangover, so I stop at Merlotte's on the way home.

 

The bar and grill, as it is advertised in bright neon letters on the outside is actually quite nice. The owner, Sam put a lot of work in to make it look more like a restaurant rather than a dive bar. The clientèle might not appreciate it, but I do. I have to listen to people's thoughts, 24/7, might as well do it in a hospitable environment. Why a bar and not a museum? Simple, intoxicated people, with their scrambled thoughts are much easier to ignore than liars and lawyers. Honest people are the worst for me, because they go over every single detail again and again. But Drunks?

 

“Blablabla, the wife's gonna kill me if she smells the beer, gotta finish this report, Lord cure me, damn, this waitress has nice tits.” The waitress with the nice tits – Dawn, comes over and smiles.

 

“Hey, Will. Long time no see. Busy, catching Jack the Ripper?” “Always, Mam.” She thinks I'm weird but cute, so she laughs and asks if I want the usual. I nod and she says:  
“Comin' right up.” In an exaggerated Southern Accent. The usual is a glass of Bourbon, the good stuff because I tip all of the waitresses well and then I'm left to my own thoughts until...

 

“Your car broke down?”

I didn't even see the man coming in. Arlene, the other waitresses that night, a flashy red head in her late 30's looks the newcomer up and down and obviously appreciates, what she sees. Tall, with ashy blond hair and a suit that doesn't fit in with the crowd. Come to think of it, no suit would fit into Merlotte's, except for denim.

 

“Yes,” the man replies with an accent I cannot pin point.

“May I call the automobile club?” “ _May I_?” She laughs and puts the pitcher of beer down.

“Such a gentleman! I'm sorry hun, but the phone line is down. Something with the wiring you know?” Against better judgement, I pull out my cell and wave him over to my table.

 

“You can use mine.” The man nods quickly and walks over to me and then I kick myself for not realising it sooner: He's a vampire.

 

When you are working with a werewolf and can read thoughts, you are inclined to know if there are other supernatural beings around. I was disappointed when Jack informed me, that Leprechaun's do not exists but vamps? They are real and now one was sitting on my table, having a heated conversation with the automobile club over his... Bentley. Of course it was a Bentley.

 

“Thank you.” He says and hands me back my phone. “No problem. Are they on their way?”

 

“The man said, Matthew will be their in about half an hour.” “Well, if you need something to pass the time, the chicken wings are good in this place.”

_Don't let a fanger know you know._ Jack's voice echos in my brain and I try my best to make small talk. Which I suck at under normal circumstances but now?

 

“I don't think any food in this place would agree with my stomach but thank you for your suggestion.” “Hm, okay. So the wine would be off limits too, right?”

_Yes, I want him to say I never drink... Wine._ When will I ever meet a vampire again?

 

“Obviously, since I'm planning on driving home, if Matthew is able to fix my car.” “Yeah, didn't think about that.” Dawn choses this moment to come back, a fake smile plastered onto her face.

 

“Good evening and welcome to Merlotte's what can I get you?” The man looks at her and then focuses on Dawn's jugular. _He's hungry. I can't have that, damn, what do I do?_

 

“Oh, he's over there, the one in the nice suit!” Arlene waves at the man and points to the mechanic. The vampire tears his eyes away from the girl and turns to me:  
  
“Thank you for letting me use your phone. I will be on my way. Have a good night.” “Your welcome. I think I call it a night too.”

I extend my hand, which he takes after a few seconds. Apparently vampires don't shake hands. I bet, my boss didn't know that.

 

As I walk over to pay my tab, I put my mental shield down and listen in on the conversation between the vamp and the mechanic. _Oh hell no!_

Without thinking, I slap a 20 dollar bill on the counter and follow them outside.

 

#

It takes me about five minutes to find both of them in a somewhat secluded area from the parking lot. The vamp is on the ground, withering in agony with something shiny covering him.

 

_Silver, help against them. Used it to subdue one myself in 98._

The Jack trivia show is always on in my brain and this time. The mechanic, who didn't even bother to use a fake name had the vampire on his radar because of the car accessories. Sun proof glass, a trunk that was unlockable from the inside with plenty of space, easy to clean car seats...

 

_I could get five pints out of this fanger... three grand for little work... maybe I could keep him..._ _looks strong._

Matthew's thoughts are all over the place. Not out of intoxication but pure excitement. He get's off on this. Vampire or not, I will not let someone like this get away with murder. Before I can argue about semantics when it comes to vampires, the Jack show feeds me some more trivia:

 

There are people who buy vampire blood for all sorts of purposes. Getting high, sexual enhancement, strength. The problem is, these guys go crazy if they have too much. And sometimes, when they are stupid enough to let the vamp get the upper hand, they die.

 

Well, not gonna happen today, either way, so I grab the next best thing – a solid piece of wood – and wack Matthew in the back with it. He doesn't go down as I hoped but turns around and takes a swing at me. I duck and lung at him, which is enough to bring him to his knees.

 

“Get the fuck off of me!”

He spits and I've seen this crazy, murderous look enough times to not pay any attention.

 

“Listen here,” I say as calmly as I can. “I'm with the FBI. We've survaillanced you for a long time. That little incident in Baja, you thought no one paid attention to? Well, someone did. And now, you've attacked me. Do you want to fight this out, or do you want to make a run for it?” Angry people are marvellous projectors and surprisingly paranoid. Matthew bites back a scaling insult, I obviously heard, and runs. The vampire tries to free himself from the silver chain but it has already melted into his skin. I walk over and he hisses. My eyeroll shuts him up.

 

“ _Come on, if I wanted you dead._.. Do I need to continue or do you want me to get this thing off?” He eyes me suspiciously but then nods. It takes a lot of effort to free him but I figure, this is nothing compared to his bruised ego. After endless minutes, he's finally free and immediately begins to heal.

 

“Thank you.” He looks quite dignified for someone in a bloody, ripped suit. I let my mental shield down again – just to make sure he doesn't plan on using me to replenish his blood – and I hear nothing. That surprises me so much, that I move closer and say:

“I didn't hear you.” “Thank. You.”

“No, no, I did hear the words but... Your mind it is...” And then he smells me. I try to grab the silver chain but nothing about it is threatening.

 

“What are you?” “Huh?” _Three scholarships to fancy learning places made Willy a real smart boy._

 

“You smell different.” “I'm a profiler for the FBI. Maybe that makes me reek of uhm... loss of hope in humanity?”

 

“No... you...” “Enough with the sniffing! No sniffing, at least not until we are on a first name basis.” I kinda think that was a tiny smile and he actually moves back a couple of steps.

 

“I'm Hannibal.” “Get out.” I know I should laugh but that was just too absurd.

 

“You're name is Hannibal. Well, it is a fitting name for a vampire.” _Damn_.

 

“A what? How...?” Instead of a “30 Days of Night” throat rip, Hannibal just looks confused.

 

“I better go. Thank you again for your help. I will not seek you out.” And with that, he is gone.

 

#

“You met a fanger?” Jack doesn't know if he wants to be mad or impressed. So he settles for furious.

 

“Yep, at Merlotte's.” “I need you to give me a description, right now!” “Tall, ashy blonde hair, drives a Bentley...”

 

“No, you need to do it here, with a sketch artist!” Yes, Jack still uses them. Yes, it was silly but everyone had too much of a sense of self-preservation to tell him that.

 

“Can't, I'm in my therapists waiting room. Defensive, defensive with weeping, remember?” “Alright but come back as soon as possible, you understand?” “Sure.” I hit _End Call_ and sit down. Since this therapist, had a normal practice, they made my appointment at 8 p.m., which was fine by me. All that vampire stuff from last night...

 

_Vampire stuff. I have vampire stuff. Was my life ever normal?_ The door to the office opens and Will hears his name: 

 

“Mr. Graham?” “Yeah, I'm...” New trivia for his werewolf boss:

 

A vampire's face could crack as hard as any humans.

 

 


End file.
